


Dark Little Games

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Minor Character Death, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-14
Updated: 2005-12-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin are living happily when a past admirer comes back to haunt Brian.





	1. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

AN: This story takes place a year after 513. 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
Brian’s P.O.V   
  
“So guess what Ben and I are going to Tibet,” Michael chatted endlessly on and on. I had tuned out when he started speaking but the eternal buzz of his voice was making me nauseous. I checked my watch, Justin should have gotten to the diner thirty fucking minutes ago. It wasn’t like him to be this late. Admittedly, he was usually five or ten minutes behind but that was just his fashionably late artist thing.  
  
“Fuck, did Justin say anything to you about being late?” I interrupted him.   
  
“No, but you know Ben and I think we’re going to adopt a little girl.” Michael talked about his adoption plans, how to deliver the perfect blow job, PFLAG and J.R until finally Justin walked in, in hot disarray.   
  
“I’m sorry. I just forgot.” He said sitting down. I gave him an annoyed look but he gave a big smile and I quickly dropped it.   
  
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re becoming a needy husband.” He continued, laughing slightly.   
  
“You wish,” I answered over the rumple of someone getting out of his seat. His silver eyes fixed on me a little longer than what was natural.   
  
  
Seven Years Prior   
Samuel’s P.O.V  
  
Bible School for twelve years had taught me only one thing. I was going to hell. At thirteen when I realized what I was, it scared the shit out of me. But at the age of twenty-five I was used to the idea. In fact, I revealed in it. I could do anything I wanted and it didn’t affect my afterlife, I was already doomed. No one else understood this. No one else could understand. Well, at least that’s what I thought before I met Brian Kinney. He was tall, dark, and handsome as the bright blue neon lights flashed across his body at Babylon. And to look at him you could tell, he practically owned the fucking place. He would do anything, say anything, fuck anything, no apologies, no excuses, no regrets. Brian Kinney frankly didn’t give a shit like, oh say, me. He realized his fate as I had. That was unbelievably sexy. I was determined to have him, no matter what.   
  
My mission was unsuccessful. The god was busy fucking a man who didn’t give a fuck about him. The guy was like Adonis. I couldn’t compete with him. I’m not saying that I’m ugly. I’m more homely except for my eyes. They’re a silvery gray that seems almost ethereal. And these perfectly colored eyes are shaded by long dark lashes. But eyes are not enough at Babylon you have to have everything almost. So I left a bit down trodden by sure that another day, I would succeed.   
  
It was very dark the night as I left Babylon. The blackness around me was almost murky and tangible. The stars seemed to be hiding but the moon was out pale and ghastly. A couple of souls were looking for their cars. One of which was the Adonis as I chose to call him.   
  
I came across my car. It was a sleek dark blue Audi that blended with the night perfectly. I got in watching him walk towards his car. A street light illuminated his gorgeousness. Anger flooded me.  How dare he? And anyway I need something to take out my frustration on. I pushed the accelerator down to the floor. It was actually not as dramatic as I expected to be. There was just this loud thunk as bones and flesh and car smashed together.  
  
It’s much more satisfying to kill with a knife; the victim’s splutters and fights dramatically while ironically the blood seems to slowly poor out. And after one last gasp their eyes become glassy and vacant. Don’t ask how I know this. It’s a long story. 

In fact, I might say killing with a car was disappointing. And what was even more disappointing was somebody saw me and took my license plate in the light of the street lamp.   
  
The next day, police came to my house. Police is such a loose term for the two people who appeared on my door step. There was a man and woman. The man had a beer gut that seemed to be have a mind of its own. The woman looked as if she would rather be in Mexico with a bunch of tanned Cabana boys, I couldn’t blame her.   
  
“Sir, a man was ran over yesterday at a Liberty Avenue. Do you know anything about it?” He asked, he was such a dumb ass. My car was in my garage but the door was open. He could have easily just looked in there and arrested me. At Bible School I was told to respect police officers as authorities but frankly there was only one thing I learned there.  
  
“Yes ….,” His face looked hopeful until I continued with, "uh, No ….. wait a minute, Yes ….. No, did you say Liberty Street?” The girl cop couldn't hide her exasperation. She let it out with sigh.   
  
“He said Liberty Avenue LI-BER-TY AV-EN-UE” she annunciated.   
  
“Oh well then, I haven’t been to a Levity Avenue.” I replied, I wanted to see how far I could keep it going until they lost patience.   
  
Twenty minutes later, they finally got the guts and the brains to finally look in my garage and when they saw what was in there I knew it was over. 

Firstly, I hadn’t finished washing my car. There were dark red specs which I hadn’t been able to finish off before dawn. Secondly there was a huge dent in it. It took a couple of seconds for them to put two and two together. The woman took out hand cuffs.   
  
“Sir you’re under arrest.” The talking beer gut said.   
  
“Oh, I thought you were just going to use the handcuffs for some really hot fucking.” 


	2. Chapter 3

AN: This chapter is still in the past with Samuel. 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
Samuel P.O.V  
  
The police car was cramped, dirty and smelly. There were remnants of donut boxes, McDonald’s trash and cigarette butts. I sat in the back seat separated from the two of Pittsburgh’s finest (yeah, right) by a metal grated wall. 

When we arrived at the police station, I was pushed into an interrogation room. I didn’t put up a fight. I wasn’t stupid like the pimp who came in before me. He fought, yelled and he cussed but it didn’t make a damn difference. I knew I was doomed but in an entirely different way than before. 

My interrogator was to be frank, which I always am, enormously fat. He was wider than he was tall. I considered my options. I could play games with him. But that would probably be shown to the jury. I could pretend it was just a hit and run. That had possibilities...   
  
An hour later after taking the fifth, I had a lawyer and a way out. It was dark, I didn’t see. The only problem was that damn witness who had seen my license plate in a street lamp, so one could I could see. My lawyer said that we might be able to say that he just walked into me to drunk to see where he was going. I liked my lawyer. She thought up things like that. She was tall and willowy with a hawk-like face almost that was shrewd and I knew she could get me out of anything.   
  
Two weeks later I walked into a court room. For once I got a nice example of the Judicial Branch of Government. It was a oval roofed building with wooden chairs and benches. The judge was three times as old as I was and had a wart on his nose. I looked at the prosecutor. He looked like the Judge’s twin. Behind him sat … Brian Kinney. What the fuck is he doing here, I needless to say, thought, losing sight of everything around me. I sat down in my seat, trembling slightly. The rest of the trial was a blur. Brian Kinney testified clearly that I, Samuel Brown, accelerated at the trick and that I could clearly see him because of a street lamb. I testified the exact opposite with a bit of crying. The jury bought it hook, line and sinker. Then the man cop testified that I had washed my car and was petulant to him.   
  
After the trial, my lawyers face was grim.   
  
“The witness and cop did a pretty good job. It is possible for them to convict you of murder.” She noted, fondling her brief case.   
  
“How much jail time would that be?” I asked. My skin crawled. I hated the idea of being trapped in a metal box with a bunch of dirty thugs.   
  
“Who knows? There are many factors,” She said, oh so specifically.   
  
The next day, the jury assembled grimfaced. The judge wasted no time, almost immediately the head juror stated after a bit of bureaucracy about trial of peers, “On count one, voluntary manslaughter, we find the defendant, Samuel Brown, guilty."

 The world seemed to spin a bit around me. I almost threw up. I had always hated merry-go-rounds. I was handcuffed once more and brought to the Pennsylvania State Jail which would be my “home” for seven years.   
  
Present Day  
Brian’s P.O.V  
  
“Sunshine what are you looking at?” I said to Justin who sat, inexplicably looking intently at the wall in the house. We had returned from the diner. He really must be bored, I thought as I walked towards him.   
  
“There’s a carving in the wall,” Justin replied slowly. He got up and I took his place. A thin scratch had been slashed on my fucking walls. It was an S.   
  
“Do you have any idea how it got there?” I asked annoyed. Unexpectedly Justin laughed.  
  
“What?”   
  
“You’re so anal retentive.” He chortled getting up and walking down the hallway towards his studio.  
  
“I just don’t like writing on my fucking walls, we have the Vietnam Memorial for that,” I answered following him. It must be one of the staff, I thought, I mean I had one of the best security systems a man could buy.  
  
“What ever you say,” Justin continued laughing as the sound of a car pulling out of the drive way filled both of our ears. 


	3. Chapter 4

AN: There isn't a lot of BJ in this chapter but I had to explain what happened to Samuel.

* * *

 

 

Samuel's P.O.V  
Prison is very hard for me to remember. Though that might be because the whole time I was there I was high from smuggled in pot I got from my room mate, Benny. Benny was there because he raped two girls. When I told him that I was doing jail time for running someone over with a car, he told me that I must have had a terrible lawyer because he got away with doing just that. I liked him, though he was an idiot.

The words short and round described everything about Benny perfectly except for his way of smuggling pot in. Every other week or so Benny would get a raunchy poster of a playmate in a frame. The wood of the frame’s left side was hollow and at the end there was a latch that looked perfectly normal until you opened it and pot spilled out. Benny wasn’t the only idiot in prison, whoever checked the package was, too.

Seven years passed. Most of them I was either high or sleeping until I was let out. I hadn’t given up on Brian Kinney. I had a plan. I had to change my appearence so that he couldn't remember me from the court room. I decided to curl my hair and color it red. Also I would do what Clark Kent did to hide his identity. I would buy a pair of glasses

Next, I had plans to follow him discover his likes and dislikes, where he goes, who he spends his time with and then I could insinuate myself and get what was mine.

My first day on my mission was the day after I got out of prison. I was walking down Liberty Avenue and I spotted him going into a diner. I stayed a couple of paces behind him and sat in a booth right behind him. I was in the perfect spot to eavesdrop. I smiled pleased with myself.

He was meeting a scrawny black haired man with dimples who never seemed to shut up. It didn’t take me long to discover that they were just friends. So I ordered and started on my eggs until something caught my attention.

“Fuck, did Justin say anything to you about being late?” he said, impatiently.

I looked up. Who was Justin? I closely examined Brian’s profile. And then I saw it, a gold band around his ring finger. While I absorbed this shock, the black haired man continued chatting. The sound created a buzz around my head while a single train of thought ran around in my head. The words he’s married, just kept repeating until it was blown sky high when I actually saw his husband. He was the exact opposite of what I was expecting. I expected someone who understood his dark side, someone who knew his need for space, someone like, well, me. But Justin was a smiling, teasing blonde who could never truly understand him.

Brian needed me to make him realize what a mistake he had made. I would have to start subtlety, keep to my plan, and not let that little twat get in the way. But part of me kept wondering why him. Sure, he was attractive but all his other tricks were attractive. These thoughts filled my head. I needed to get out of the diner get an apartment and then make concrete plans.

 

Three days later, I had an apartment, a job at the diner, knowledge of Brian and his friends and a plan. It started with becoming Emmet’s boyfriend. He was desperate for love and easy to approach. Then, it would be time to become friends with Michael. He was close to both Justin and Brian.

 

Brian’s P.O.V Present (Two weeks ahead of the past entry)

“So who’s your new boy toy Emmett,” I said sliding into a booth next to Justin. Emmet sat across from Justin. A stranger sat next to Emmet.

“Oh, this is Sam. He’s the new waiter here.” Emmet gushed barely containing his joy. Sam held out his hand. I shook it.

Sam was a reasonably attractive man, a little on the homely side except for his eyes. Besides that he didn't seem to have much personality. He wasn’t worth too much attention.


	4. Chapter 5

Justin’s P.O.V

“So how long have you and Brian been together? Samuel, Emmett’s new guy asked with casual interest.

We were reasonably alone. Emmett had gone up to talk to Debbie. Brian had gone as well. He had a meeting.

“Oh, six years approximately,” I said while getting ready to leave. I had to meet with an art show coordinator.

“How long have you been married?” He continued his interrogation. I looked up, slightly startled. Why was he taking such interest? But then I reasoned with myself, some people are just curious.

I looked at his face, it was perfectly nonchalant. It reminded me of Brian when he tried to hide that something was important to him.

“Almost a year,” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face when I said this. His expression darkened. “Why?”

“Oh,” He said too coolly, “You guys are very important to Emmett. I just wanted a little history.” Another smile cracked unto my face.

“Well, it was nice to meet you but I have to go,” I said slinging my back pack over my shoulder and walking out of the diner, thinking about Emmett’s boyfriend. He seemed pretty nice.

Brian’s P.O.V

The next week went okay. Things kept disappearing, though. My Rolex fucking disappeared from my bedside table. Justin’s art pad which had most of his drawings of me, seemed to have a mind of its own. Justin left it on our bed. The next day it was on top of my desk. If that incident had been the first time I would have discounted it but it happened three times that week. It was really starting to annoy me.

That Samuel, guy, became a fixture. Wherever I went the man who would watch paint dry seemed to appear. Emmett seemed ecstatic, he was even more FAB-U-LOUS (His word) than usual. Justin and Ted simply put up with him while he became Michael’s new bestest friend in da world (their words.)

Justin’s art show happened on Friday. I had already seen most of it. I knew he was going to be a success. But a little part of me hoped it would fail miserably. It was the part that had this nagging fear that Justin would go back to N.Y.C.

We arrived a little early. Justin wanted to help set up. I had wanted to arrive fashionably late but my weak spot (a nagging blonde) convinced me in a way only he could  to come early.

Justin was off smiling and pointing to where the paintings were to go. I sat in a chair flipping through magazines with disinterest.

A minute or two later, I sat up, casting the magazine away. An almost musky, distinctive smell filled the air. It could only be one thing. Smoke. And when there’s smoke there’s fire.

Other people were noticing too. The fire alarm rang, loud and painful.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Justin hurrying to save his paintings. I got up moving as fast as I could without running.

“Fuck, Justin,” I grabbed his arm and managed to pull him towards an exit. I loved him so much at that moment I hated him. How could he be so stupid?

Unfortunately, the fire escape was covered with oil. No one could go down it without falling off. Some one had to have done that intentionally. The fire, wherever it was, was intentional. That worried me almost as much as Justin valuing his paintings so much he forgot common sense.

We rushed towards the stairs. They would have been a fine exit except for the fact that they were the things on fire. The fire was large. Its scarlet tongues reached the ceiling. It was unbearably hot near it. It felt as if the air broke because of the heat. I looked around with Justin for other exits but there were only two windows. They didn’t do any fucking good. We were four stories above ground.

Fire fighters arrived fifteen minutes later. By that time we were all huddled in the center. A ladder was attached to the window and we all got out safely.

There were many on-lookers, about twenty. One of which rushed at us. He had curly red hair and silver eyes. I wondered what he had to say.  



	5. Chapter 6

AN: This chapter starts up close to where we left off with Samuel’s P.O.V. This hopefully is the last entry in Samuel’s P.O.V but I make no promises.

* * *

 

 

 

 

Samuel’s P.O.V

“Did I tell you Emmett? I found a carving in our wall,“ Justin commented getting into a booth.

“What, darling, I warned you when you moved into that big house of yours. It’s haunted.” Emmett replied jokingly.

“Now, Emmett not all the things that go bump in the night are ghosts,” Brian said smiling at his own wit. He was absentmindedly playing with the nape of Justin’s hair. I wanted rip out the unfaithful ass’s throat but then I realized it wasn’t him. The blonde twit was controlling him.

Anyway, I had already marked Brian as my own. It was quite a job. I had to flirt with a maid. Afterwards I took about five cold showers, washing myself until I was brick red. The pain told me I was clean.

Hooking up with Emmett that night was almost painfully easy. All I had to do was walk up and start conversation. Emmett really needed raise his standards. I mean after a sentence, he thought I was the love of his life. He needed to get a life.

The next day he introduced me to two of his best friends, Brian and Justin. I knew that was the time to charm him, to sweep him off his feet. But I couldn’t think at all. There was a loud liquid hum in my ears and chest. My breath seemed to be restrained. Needless to say I didn’t make a very charisma-filled first impression.

Brian had a meeting so our conversation (a bit of an overstatement) ended. I looked away angrily when Brian and Justin kissed goodbye. I could of stabbed the male Tinkerbelle right then and there with my knife but I restrained myself with reason. Stabbing him would be way too quick. No, I would burn him to death.

Brian’s P.O.V

“Are you guys all right?” Samuel asked, scanning both of us with his eyes. I smiled slightly as his eyes lingered on my muscles.

“No, we’re fine, thank god,” replied Justin. Samuel bristled at the word “god.” I thanked god that this guy was another atheist.

“Justin lets go ask the fire fighters if they managed to save any of you paintings.” I said. Justin followed me, smiling happily even though his art show was ruined. We left Samuel standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, an almost angry/jealous look on his face.

The next day, Justin and I went grocery shopping.

"Oh, my god," Justin said in the ethnic foods eisle.

"What?" I said, wittily, and feeling slightly annoyed.

"Hey, Brian do you want some spotted dick?" He asked laughing.

"No, I prefer mine unspotted and long," I replied, looking at the British section. Apparently spotted dick is a traditional British desert.. You've got to love those perverts.

An hour or two we left, dickless except for the ones god gave us. We loaded everything into our car. A couple rows done, I noticed a dark blue Audi. I didn't think much of it then.

After seeing thirteen times more than next day, I began paying attention. So I took the license plate. I would have just walked up to the car but whenever I got to close it drove away.

I went to Horvath’s office and gave the license plate to him.

“It belongs to a Samuel Brown. He was arrested twice, once when he was thirteen and once when he was 23. In the first one, he was a suspect in the murder of a catholic priest. It was quite gruesome. The guy was stabbed seven times and castrated but they couldn’t find any evidence. He was actually convicted of running a guy over with a car.”

I burst out laughing. It was amazing. The guy who no one paid any attention too was a serial killer. This would only happen to me. Emmet seriously needed a better taste in men.

“This is no laughing matter.” Horvath said sternly.

“I know. I’ll deal with it.” I said.

Justin’s P.O.V (This entry is at the same time as the ending of the last one)

I hummed happily to myself as I painted. The firefighter managed to save the majority of my paintings but still I had to do some more.

There was a knock on the door. I decided to ignore it. If it was anybody I knew they’d just walk in.

The knock became more and more persistent.

“Come in,” I called. The door creaked. It was Samuel.here was a bright, glittering, something in his hand.


	6. Chapter 7

It just came to my attention that I have been spelling Emmett wrong. Forgive me. I have corrected it in this story of mine but all my others still have that fault. Also this chapter is really short even for me. I promise that the next one will be longer

* * *

 

 

 

 

Brian’s P.O.V

“What is it, Carl?” I asked into my cell phone as I drove to Emmett’s, rehearsing in my mind what to say to him.

“I looked up some more about Samuel Brown. Several things were taken from the priest murder’s crime scene. Someone took a wooden cross, a silver communion cup and a big, holy candle. Also guess, who was the main witness at other his trial?” He said.

“Who?” I asked while flicking off some driver’s ed students.

“You,” He replied.

“ME?” I had to act ignorant.

“You saw him run over the guy, and took down his license plate number.” He answered.

As fake comprehension dawned, I said, “oh that mother-fucker. I was only in court a day. It wasn’t like anything to interesting happened. There wasn’t anyone fuckable within ten miles.” I heard a sigh, a good bye and a click. So my ass was covered.

I could remember only too well. I hated myself for not recognizing him. Then again, after the trial, I repressed everything.

The trial made me feel guilty about my ignorance of the trick's name and life. It turned out the guy was married with kids. Did that mean he deserved to die?

I shook my head that didn’t really matter, now. What was done was done; you can’t go back, only forward. Dwelling on it would just get me upset for no reason. I had to move on.

When I reached Emmett’s house, I knocked and knocked and knocked but no one answered. His car was in the garage. He had to be home. I let myself in.

I found Emmett on the floor. His eyes were closed and part of me knew he wasn’t sleeping.

Justin’s P.O.V (this begins where we left of with Justin’s entry)

‘Want to have a drink,” Sam asked, holding up two silver cups and a wine bottle. On was large and wide brimmed with a cross on it but the other was regular in ever way.

“Okay,” I replied. He filled the cups handing me the larger one.

“I really hope the two of us can be good friends. I know that the bonds you guys share won’t happen over night but I’m willing to take the time.” Sam declared warmly and pretentiously.

“That’s very kind of you.” I answered, not really knowing what to say.

“Well, then, to friendship,” There was a glint in his eye as I took a sip.


	7. Chapter 8

“-It is impossible to create or manufacture love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in the room – oh yes,” He [Professor Slughorn] said nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love….”

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, page 186

* * *

 

 

 

 

Justin’s P.O.V (A little while after the last entry,)

After whatever he gave me, becoming conscious was somewhat akin to being burned alive. Simple things like breathing and moving seemed like trying to move mountains. It was way too much effort to open my eyes but I did register a few key points. My hands were tied. However, I wasn’t gagged. The ground beneath me was cool cement. The chill  of the cement was like a hard wind on my face but not unpleasant . I thought I was underground but couldn't tell for sure. I could hear shuffling noises around me. I knew they were probably Samuel’s.

Inwardly I began to debate with myself. If he knew I was a wake he might act but if I never opened my eyes then I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of my surroundings. Blearily, I squinted. I was in a cellar of some sort. The ground beneath me was concrete. I scanned the room for exits. There was only a door at the opposite end of the room. I closed my eyes once more but it was too late.

“You’re awake finally. I’ve got quite a story for you before he comes.” Samuel said. I lost all premises and opened my eyes all the way, trying to absorb everything around me.

“It’s quite a story and I haven’t told a soul its entirety but hell, you’ll be dead within an hour. Plus, it’s good to confess according to my old minister. He’s dead now, though.”

I was born and raised in Pittsburgh in a strict god abiding catholic family. We had a very special relationship with our priest, Father Jacob. Father Jacob was an astounding man. He gave the best blow job for miles around when he was not on top. I knew I was supposed to feel violated but I enjoyed it very much. “

A wicked smile curved his lips. It seemed to mutate his feature what was once homely looked positively ghoulish.

“He was amazing,” He continued, “he made this little sound when he came… but I rarely kiss and tell

Once I thought the good father and I were true to each other. I found him once fucking another, a choral boy. This boy however wasn’t as willing as I had been. He screamed and cried. You would think hell had been unleashed on him.”

Samuel paused dramatically, looking as if he was trying to understand the boy’s feelings but was falling short.

“Anyway, back to the point, the good father was punished for his deeds. I was thirteen. I lived the next ten years, fucking and sucking. But then I met Brian.”

He caressed the word across his tongue. And I knew why I was locked in a dungeon. I knew why I was going to die. Jealousy is a bitch.

“Just like the good father, Brian wasn’t very faithful. He had fun with a trick. I knew I had to remove the bastard. I ran him over with a car.”

I choked. He spoke so callously about taking lives; you would think he was just breathing.

“I was however caught in that crime. I went to jail then. It wasn’t that bad of an experience. I was high half the time. When I walked out I was fully determined to gain my love. But there was one problem. You.

And with that he gave a swift kick to my stomach and I felt like dying but he wasn’t finished. He got down on the floor on top of me muttering, “what so special about him.” He knocked my head into the cement. Blood filled my mouth, hot like molten iron, the embodiment of pain. But it was just the tip of the iceberg, there was more to come.

 

Brian’s P.O.V (this takes place a bit after his {Brian’s} last entry but by the end this entry is in front of Justin’s last one)

It was as if the image of Emmett’s body, limp and broken, had been tattooed into my eyes. The more, I thought about, the more it mutated into Justin. I explained to the police my story including the Samuel bit.

To be honest, I didn’t want to share my theory with them. The murder of Jason Kemp flashed into my mind. The cops covered up, one fag’s assault, what’s one more?

The events earlier weighed on my mind. they had only happened minutes ago but it seemed that it had been much longer.

A few minutes after arrival I arrived at Emmett’s I searched for a pulse and was comforted by a soft thrum. I put my hand over his mouth to make sure he was breathing. Luckily, he was only knocked out cold. I called the police (duh.) Then I tried Justin’s but his cell phone was shut off. Sometimes, although he got a 1510 of 1600 on the S.A.T.S, I doubt his intelligence.

As quickly as I could, I maneuvered out, telling anyone who was asking that I was going to tell one of the deceased friends. On the drive to our house, my brain seemed to travel on a different plan. I felt in my blood that Samuel had done it. This hypothesis was beyond anything logical. It could easily have been someone else.

I could have just thought about that jackass the whole drive. But I was half-way there to the house, when another jackass crashed into my car. A screeching noise, like a woman's scream, erupted from my car as the motor was crushed. I looked to see the bastard who ruined my car. And with an in drawl of breath, I realized it was the one I thought about on the drive.


	8. Chapter 9

Brian’s P.O.V (Just after the last Brian Entry)  
  
I didn’t even spare time to think or even really process seeing him. I was filled with something hot, and unbearable and it seemed the only way to get it out of me was to beat the shit out of this guy. I ran at him. His face looked, expectant like he thought I was running into his arms (in his wet dreams.)   
  
The first blow smashed his face to the side. One pearly tooth flew from his mouth and onto the barren ground. The second seemed to awake his desire to live. He started to fight back. That made the fight almost fun. By the end of the five minutes I had him by the throat but there was something wrong. He was laughing. It wasn’t like Santa’s Ho Ho Ho. It was chopped and painful for him but it was still laughter.   
  
“If you kill me you’ll never find him.” He declared, eyeing me with his eerie silver eyes. He looked gleefully proud.  
  
“I’ve already found Emmett.” I said, managing to replace my confusion with raised-eyebrows cynicism.   
  
“He’s not who I’m talking about.” He answered. Trumpets sounded. I knew who he was talking about. Justin. That bastard.   
  
“Where is he?” I grunted, punching him in the stomach. Pain can motivate like nothing else. He was laughing, though.   
  
“I said where is he?”  
  
Justin’s P.O.V (Same time of ending of previous entry in this chapter)  
  
My ropes were almost gone. The hard edge of the cement was wearing them down. I focused on rubbing the rope against the cement with every figment of my mind. I wouldn’t, no couldn’t think about what happened to me. Unfortunately, the events seemed to loom above me like blinding sun light, one has to shade their eyes from the oppressive heat.   


Five minutes later, it broke through and I heaved a sigh.   
  
After putting back on my pants, I gingerly got up. I tried hard not to look at the dark stains on the cement. I ran (more like painfully stumbled) to the door. It was locked but the hinges were ancient and caked with layers of rust. I looked around and spotted a shovel. The shovel, too was rusty and in good need of washing but it seemed that it would work. As hard as I could I slammed it unto the pivot. With a sound like a screeching woman the hinge broke. The other hinge because of its new load gave way as well. I walked out the shovel still in my hands. My arms shook with the weight of the shovel and I had to drop it.   
  
Massaging my biceps, I looked around. This room was simply a hollow block of cement except for a creaky set of stairs. Wearily I wobbled up them. The room, I entered was dank and derelict. No one had lived in, there for centuries, it seemed. The room was average sized and had no ornament of furnishings except for a silver cross on the wall. The rest of the rooms I passed through were similar. Finally I reached the exit. This door wasn’t locked.   
  
Once I got out though, I realized it didn’t need to be. I was in the middle of nowhere. I had no food, water, transportation, communication and a mad man would soon be coming back to once and for all kill me. I collapsed to the ground.   



	9. Chapter 10

AN: As you might have seen on the warning’s list, there is rape. In this chapter it isn’t graphic at all. Also, I know that the plot of Justin as a rape victim has been done before but there are going to be differences in my version (hopefully.) 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
Brian’s P.O.V (This one follows Brian’s previous entry)  
  
I had always thought myself above something as primal as bloodlust. But just that seeped into my pores, infused into my blood stream, and then flowed into my brain.  
  
“What do want?” I asked, pondering that very question. Samuel’s scheme couldn’t be for money. If he had wanted that he wouldn’t have bothered with befriending everyone. He could have just grabbed a random guy and demanded a ransom.   
  
“You,”Samuel confessed, grinning  disturbingly like a broken clown doll. It seemed as if all of me went from magma to glacier.   
  
“What?” The word fell off my lips and almost seemed to have some substance od its own.   
  
“Did you really think I cared at all for Emmett?" I thought you were smarter than that. He, as you’ve probably deduced, was just a way to get close to you.” Samuel further explained, his eyes bulging.  
  
“Why didn’t you take Justin earlier?” I kept questioning him, hoping he would slip.   
  
“I thought you would come around,” His grin faded a little.   
  
“Come around to what?” I continued, asking a question already asked in hopes of answering another.   
  
“Me,” Monosyllabic man struck again. With that great introduction, Samuel introduced me to his form of lovin’. He touched my dick through my suit. I bet he thought he was being subtle and erotic. My face contorted and I slammed my fist into his stomach once more. His hand fell away.  
  
“Stop playing you little games, tell me where Justin is.” I demanded stupidly almost because I knew it wouldn’t work.  
  
“I will if you,” He leaned forward and whispered into my ear the rest.   
  
  
Justin’s P.O.V   
  
The seconds passed by like the gentle wind flowing silkily across my cheeks. Various body parts were bruised, cut and/or broken. They were a chorus of pain, singing persistently in my ear. The only things worse were memories. They seemed to sabotage every train of thought, invading until pushed back again. I tried not to think, to simply exist but thoughts leaked through my barrier. I had to think about what happened to me. It was inescapable reminding me of … death.   
  
Hours, days, years, ago, it didn’t really matter, I-I was raped.   


Finally, I admitted it, bowing my head down and closing my eyes, embracing the dark. Still hoping that maybe, just maybe, I imagined it. I wasn’t really violated, I’m just crazy. You know you’ve reached a low point when you hope you’re crazy.   
  
  
Brian’s P.OV (Just after the last Brian entry)   
  
Once he was down whispering in my ear I had to take a moment or to to get my face and emotions under control. In exchange for Justin’s location, I would have to fuck him. I looked down at him. He was smiling wickedly, in a Freddy Krueger way almost.   
  
“What’s the guarantee that after I fuck you, you’ll give me his location? Also, how the hell do I know for sure you have him?” I questioned. His face dropped. I had him there.   
  
“Are you prepared to the risk?” Maybe I didn’t have him as pinned as I thought.  
  
“That’s it.” I knocked his head against the ground, knocking him out.   
  
When I arrived at the police station, I got only two things, questions and pussy answers to when they would start looking for Justin. It all seemed hopeless.


	10. Chapter 11

AN: I have no idea how a Police Interview Transcript is set up. Hell, I don’t even know if this scenario of a witness interviewing a felon would ever happen but suspend disbelief.

* * *

 

 

 

 

Brian’s P.O.V (This is just a little after Brian’s previous entries.)

“We have managed to piece together this far. Samuel Brown arrives at 4322 Wisteria Lane, the residence of Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor at approximately 5:00PM. There was a silver cup from the murder of Jacob Bates at the Crime Scene. It had wine in it with traces of Rohypnol otherwise known as a roofie. Samuel drags Justin Taylor to his car, which is parked outside, then takes him to an unknown location."

They couldn’t just say Justin was drugged and kidnapped and they have no idea where he is. I pay taxes for these jackasses’ wages?

“Also, we’re trying to make a deal with Samuel Brown, five years for Kidnapping and Assault. He is resistant to any of them. He wants to talk to you. We were thinking you might get something out of him.”

“I'll do anything.” I said, meaning it entirely. I would do anything to get him back.

 

 

*****************************

  
  
  
  
Interview Transcript:  
Brian Kinney, Samuel Brown.   
Interview Interpreter: Bree Shepard.  
  
SB (theatrically, he's smiling): Hello Lover,  
  
BK (cool, with composure): You shouldn’t watch HBO. You’re screwed up enough as it is.  
  
SB: So they’re sending you in to try to find Justin?  
  
BK (sarcastically?): No, they’re sending me in because they’re afraid of you.  
  
SB (smiling): I’m never going to tell.  
  
BK (still with composure, matter-of-fact face): Listen, asshole, there is nothing to gain by doing this.  
  
SB (continuing to smile): Right now, everyone is under my thumb.   
  
BK (disbelief): So this is an ego trip for you  
  
SB (knowingly?): You know a lot about those, don’t you?  
  
BK: You know, Samuel eventually they will find Justin. If he’s dead you’re getting the needle. And no, I don’t mean heroine   
  
SB (frustrated): You don’t get it do you?   
  
BK (seems to be stalling): What don't I get? The only thing I don't get is why Gay as Blazes wasn't canceled after the first show.   


SB (conversationally): You know, I'm a lot like you.   
  
BK (jokingly?): Now, let me think, have I ever killed, a priest, and a queer? Hey, that sounds like a joke, A priest and a queer enter a bar...   
  
SB: Catholic background, Babylon lovers, disapproving parents...  
  
BK: Michael spilled his guts to you.  
  
SB: Why are you friends with him?   
  
BK: God knows.  
  
SB (disappointedly): God has nothing to do with it.   
  
BK (almost joyously, but for the first time let's down his eyebrows): Struck a nerve, haven't I?   
  
SB (suddenly passive and unemotional): I'm going to hell. Don't talk about god to me.   
  
BK (slightly heated): That’s just what some homophobic assholes said.  
  
SB (disinterestedly): It doesn't matter anymore.  
  
BK: This is all very interesting but where is Justin?  
  
SB (tauntingly): I’ll never tell.   
  
BK appears as if he is angry and walks out and starts talking to investigators.   
  
BK (unemotionally): Samuel, the coppers are giving you a day to confess and after that, no matter if Justin is dead or alive you will be charged with Murder in the first degree. And if that happens you’re going to hell.  
  
SB: No matter what, he’s going to want to die.  
  
BK (surprised his shoulders tense): What?   
  
SB (ominous, a glint in his eye): You’ll find out...  



	11. Chapter 12

  
Author's notes: I got elements of the last scene from Nip/Tuck. So what?   


* * *

Brian’s P.O.V (post interview)

I didn’t call them, I was too wracked over Samuel, but somehow the guys showed up. Even Emmett, his eyes leaking tears, came to the police station. We all sat in silence, on the edge of a cliff. One wind spurt could send us falling off the edge.

Justin’s P.O.V (after Brian’s P.O.V)

We make our choices, day after day. We never really consider that other people are making choices too. We never consider how those choices effect us whether we like it or not. So really we only have minimal control over our lives. I used to be fine with this. But as I stared at the stretch of barren road, I knew how powerless I was. As consciousness faded, I tried to fight it. But I was powerless against my body, too.

One Day Later  
A Broadcast of the Pittsburgh Daily 

Justin Taylor, the young man kidnapped by Samuel Brown, has been found. However, Samuel Brown has inexplicably escaped. Authorities are tight-lipped about the breach of security. 

Justin’s P.O.V (Five Days After the Last Entry)

I supposed that I should be thankful I was saved. I really should. But there was some comfort sitting on that dry dust patch by the road in that soon everything would all be over. I wouldn’t have to continue this action called living. I didn’t expect or prepare for suviving, for facing the others, for facing Brian. 

I knew they all expected me to be strong. After all, I was a pro at surviving through traumatic experiences. That’s why I didn’t tell them I was raped. That’s why I sat in the hospital, pretending to be fine and eager to go home and resume my life. 

’m fooling them all, I thought sadly, I’ve kept this up for five day, now I just have to keep it up fifty more years. The others had left all except Brian. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, looking concerned. He sat next to me and put his hand on mine. I wanted to rip off. Fire ants crawled on my skin, biting every inch. I bit my cheek against it and tried to look fine. 

“Yeah,” I answered, trying to smile. Brian leaned forward for kiss. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take that. I erupted into a well-timed cough. Brian backed off. 

“See you tomorrow, I love you,” Brian said. That’s what hurt the most. I loved him, too, so much and I couldn't let him touch me. 

“I love you, too. Be careful.” I replied. Although neither of us said it, we were both on edge. Samuel was out again and we’d both be targets. I had an armed guard. Brian for some reason had too much testosterone to hire a guard of his own. 

Brian’s P.O.V (the next day after the last entry)

“Why did you want to interview me here, again?” I asked the police interrogator. 

“You can tell a lot about a person what they chose to surround themselves with.” She replied. She, Bree Shepard ran a long, finger against the table.

“ One person who lives here is anal, likes to be in control and tends to bury emotions away. The other,” She continued, eyeing a photo of Justin and me at Aspen, “softens the first so much so that the emotions are no longer buried. Just by looking at you, I can tell that you are the first mentioned and Justin Taylor’s the second. If I hadn’t come here I would only have my impressions. Now, let’s get down to business.” 

“I looked at you’re other police interview. I honestly think there's more to it than that."

" You see a car, find out its Samuel. Samuel crashes his car into your car to stop you, he says he’s got Justin, you bring him in. Then you realize the connection in the priest’s murder and Justin’s. Your insight leads us to Justin." 

" I'm going to go straight out and say it. It is possible you and Samuel did this together.”

“Yes, and its also possible that this very moment an elephant will fall through the ceiling. That doesn’t mean its going to happen.” 

“I didn’t think so.” She responded, “I think that’s all I need for now. Thank you, Mr. Kinney.”


End file.
